Rescuer's Race
by Eagle2
Summary: As Titanic sinks in the Atlantic, one Captain and his crew race against time to save her.
1. Cries In The Night

Rescuer's Race

Chapter 1: Calls In The Night

It was a beautiful star-lit night as the Cunard Line steamer RMS _Carpathia_ sliced through the empty black water of the North Atlantic. She was average size as ships went, 541 feet long and 64 feet abeam, her engines pushing her through the waves at 15 knots.

Harold Thomas Cottam whistled to himself as he walked down the boat deck to his wireless cabin. Most of the ship's passengers were fast asleep in their warm berths and he looked forward to bed himself. Being the sole wireless operator aboard meant long work hours.

He stepped inside the cabin and sighed as he felt the warmth of the cramped room. It was blooming cold tonight. The radio apparatus made a low humming noise that filled the entire room and he absently pulled on his headphones as he undid his shoe laces. Cottam's work was done for the night but he enjoyed simply listening to other ship's radio traffic.

_I wonder if _Titanic_ is still working Cape Race_, he wondered. The thin, curly haired young man smiled to himself. _Titanic_, now _there _was a ship! From what he read in the papers, the White Star Line monster was nearly twice the size of _Carpathia_ and carried the most powerful wireless apparatus on the Atlantic. He envied the men assigned to her radio.

"Who am I kidding, I 'm happy where I am," Cottam remarked to himself. _Carpathia_ may be small but she was reliable and solid. _They're making these tubs too bloody big if you ask me, just asking for trouble_.

After a moment, Cottam heard the radio station at Cape Race sparking away in the night. Strange, several messages were being relayed to _Titanic_ but she didn't answer. He had listened all day to the personal traffic from the great ship's passengers. It was greatly amusing to hear the rich muckety-mucks waxing poetic about what fun they were having. _Must be nice to have money, a feeling I'll never know_.

"I say Old Man, do you know you have a batch of messages for you from MCC?" he radioed then waited to hear if the other ship would respond. Perhaps they were having mechanical problems? He was not prepared for what he was about to hear.

"Come at once! We have struck a berg! It's a CQD; position is 41.46N, 50.14 W," Cottam sat bolt upright in his seat, hand pressed to his headphone. _What in the bloody hell_? _This has to be a joke_! Hands shaking, the young Marconi man lurched for his key, tapping out his response. This couldn't be happening!

"Should I tell my Captain? Do you require assistance?" If this was a cruel prank he was going to get to the bottom of it!

"Please tell Captain to come! Putting women and children in boats!" _Titanic_ shot back immediately. Cottam jotted down the position and ripped the page off his notebook. Throwing on a coat he was out the door in a heartbeat.

Barging on the bridge, Cottam found First Officer Dean leading the watch. Startled by the Marconi man's sudden appearance the older man turned from his post.

"Cottam, I thought you'd turned in for-" he began before Cottam interrupted.

"I heard a distress call from the _Titanic_, she hit an iceberg! She's sinking!" Cottam exclaimed stumbling over his words. Dean held up a hand to silence him.

"Slow down lad, you did say _Titanic_?" the officer demanded.

"Aye sir!"

"But she's unsinkable, maybe you heard wrong-" Cottam hated it when he wasn't taken seriously. _Arrogant bastard! You think I'm a boy or something_?

"I'm telling the Captain." Cottam turned and raced aft to Captain Rostron's quarters before anyone could stop him. Without even knocking, the young radio man threw open the door and burst inside. "Sir, we have an emergency!"

Captain Arthur Rostron sat up in bed. "In the name of…you know to knock when you come in here!" unfazed Cottam handed over the paper.

"Sir, the _Titanic_ hit an iceberg and she's sinking," he explained again. Rostron flipped on the light and read and re-read the message. With a sigh he got to his feet and faced his officers.

"Mr. Dean, turn the ship around, head northwest at full steam. I'll be there in a moment," Rostron ordered. The first officer saluted and raced out the door.

The _Carpathia_'s captain stared Cottam bang in the eye, "You're certain this is _Titanic_?"

"Yes, sir!" he replied without even twitching and Rostron nodded.

"Very well, get back and tell her we are making all possible speed for her, go!" Cottam nodded and disappeared.

As his wireless man rushed out the door, Rostron pulled on his uniform. _This has to be for real! Cottam is a damn good man and he knows better than to put me on_. People were likely dying in the Atlantic at this very moment. It was up to him to do something about it.

On the bridge Rostron put a rescue plan together, "take all heat and hot water away from passenger areas, we need the steam for the engines, open all gangway doors and ready rope ladders, swings and canvas bags for the children and injured. I want all the coffee and brandy the galleys can deliver. Lastly, post stewards in all passenger areas to keep our own people out of the way. This will be hard enough without them under foot."

"So this is real?" Dean gasped. The unsinkable ship was sinking, it was impossible. But it was happening nonetheless.

"I'm afraid so, and it's up to us to pick up the pieces," Rostron replied gravely. His officers departed to carry out his orders. Already _Carpathia_ was making 17 knots, well above her top rated speed. He could feel the poor old lady shudder and groan under his boots.

"Take her straight in Mr. McKenna, all ahead full!" he ordered the young quartermaster at the helm. With his feet spread apart and both hands gripping the wheel, Todd McKenna steered _Carpathia_ directly into the massive ice field.

Captain Rostron stood ramrod straight, his eyes mated to a pair of binoculars. It was a race among the icebergs now and one little mistake would leave two ships in distress! _ We can't slow down, we're four hours away. Every moment counts_!

"Berg ahead!" Dean called. Rostron peered through his binoculars, a massive wall of ice sat directly in the rescue ship's path.

"Port 'round, 10 degrees!" McKenna spun the wheel over as fast as he could. A collective gasp went up on the bridge as the crew held their breaths. Rostron grabbed the railing, staring down the iceberg as it sped closer.

The _Carpathia_'s bow swung clear and the iceberg slid into the darkness again. Rostron let out a breath he forgot he was holding._ Too bloody close! But we can't slow down, people are dying out there_.

"Sir, I have _Titanic_ again," Cottam announced as he arrived on the bridge, "she's going down by the head and her engine room's flooding, they won't be able to transmit much longer."

"Any luck finding a closer ship?" Cottam shook his head slowly.

"Good work lad, kept in touch as long as you can," Rostron said. Keeping a stern captain's visage to mask his emotions, he felt a cold chill spread through his body. He imagined _Titanic_ sliding into the abyss, saw people swimming in the water and screaming for help, reaching out to him in desperation.

"We'll get there in time," the _Carpathia_'s commander told himself, "we have to!"


	2. Wreckage

Chapter 2: Wreckage

Cottam sat sweating at his wireless station, listening helplessly as _Titanic_'s distress calls lit up the radio frequencies. By now almost ship on the Atlantic had to be aware of the disaster. His own ship was running at maximum speed, but for right now there was nothing he could do except listen.

"Are you steaming southerly to meet us?" from the RMS _Olympic_, more than 500 miles away.

"We are putting women and children off in the boats!" _Titanic_ replied. Cottam shut his eyes and prayed they would go even faster. He felt the deck shivering under his feet and the bulkheads groaning in protest of the abuse they were being subjected to.

"Titanic needs immediate assistance, too far away, she can't hear me," radioed the SS _Caronia_. Looking at the wall clock, Cottam muttered a curse. Judging by his last message from the sinking ship, she had only minutes left. He had sent another encouraging message a few minutes ago. _Little good it does them if those poor chaps all freeze before we get there_?

At the same time, Cottam gave thanks for serving under a captain as decisive as Rostron. His respect for the man had shot up several notches when he ordered the ship turned around and run at full speed. _Rostron deserves a medal for this_.

"SOS, SOS, MGY, have struck iceberg, putting women and children into…" Cottam leaned forward as _Titanic_'s powerful Marconi signal fizzled away into nothing. His heart in his throat, the young radio man listened tensely for several moments begging the signal to return. But all he heard was silence.

"MGY, respond…MGY, respond…" Cottam called, "MGY, can you hear me?" only cold static answered him. He slowly pulled off his headphones and rubbed his tired eyes. _That's it then, she's gone down_. _May God have mercy on their souls_.

Up on the bridge, Captain Rostron gritted his teeth as yet another iceberg sped past his ship's bow. At the wheel, Quartermaster McKenna steered the vessel more like a racing yacht than an ocean liner. The captain made a mental note to put a commendation in his file; assuming they survived this stunt.

"Sir, perhaps we should slow down," First Officer Dean suggested. Rostron understood the man's anxiety, _Carpathia_ herself carried over 700 passengers and crew, all lives he was responsible for. But there were more men and women out there in real danger.

"We can't," Rostron said, "every moment we waste, another person dies." Every muscle in his body was stretched taut and he prayed constantly for his ship to go even faster; for _Titanic_ to still be afloat when they got there.

At that moment Cottam rushed back on the bridge, a message sheet in his hand. The poor lad looked in total shock. "Sir, _Titanic_'s stopped transmitting. I've tried over and over but I get nothing!"

Rostron read the partial message, passing it to Dean with a heavy sigh. "We can only hope she's lost power but is still afloat."

"Berg ahead, passing to starboard!" McKenna called out, and Rostron watched the bow swinging clear of the floating chunk of ice with only yards to spare. The berg towered over the small Cunard vessel. Rostron set his jaw gravely; _how much longer can we dodge the bullet like this_? _I must be mad_!

"She's got to be afloat gentlemen, E.J. Smith is the finest captain in these waters," Rostron said more to himself than his officers. He had actually met the _Titanic_'s master a few times in the past 15 years, and while neither flashy nor flamboyant, the man possessed a solid competence. You didn't get to be commodore of the White Star Line by being a lousy drunken sailor.

More than two agonizing hours later the first light of dawn colored the sky with a soft pastel hue as _Carpathia_ finally neared _Titanic_'s position. Staring through his binoculars, the captain scanned desperately for any sign of the doomed liner.

"Mr. Dean, fire the rockets, one every two minutes, I want them to see us coming," Rostron ordered. Walking out onto the starboard bridge wing, the captain raised his binoculars. Any moment he expected to come across the half-sunken but still afloat _Titanic_, passengers still safe on the towering decks. _She can't have sunk, it's just impossible_!

A green rocket shot high into the sky and burst with a shower of sparks. Rostron ordered _Carpathia_ slowed down. He felt his optimism fading away little by little. _We're here, so where is the bloody ship_?

"Lifeboats, off starboard bow!" Dean called. Rostron stared through his glasses and his heart plummeted; in the distance floated a small fleet of lifeboats, about twenty or so he estimated. No stricken _Titanic_, only lifeboats. The greatest ship in the world was gone.

"God almighty," Rostron breathed. There could not have been more than a few hundred people total in those tiny boats and _Titanic_ carried over 2,000 passengers and crew. "Engines all stop; begin rescue operations."

It was a long and frustrating process as the small boats rowed over to _Carpathia_ and survivors were hauled aboard. Many people were so badly frozen they barely had the strength to climb aboard. The stewards met each one with a blanket and a cup of coffee or brandy. Everyone moved with a death-like slowness, nobody spoke but cries and sobbing filled the air.

_So many widows_, Rostron observed as he watched the women standing at the rails, peering hopefully out at the ocean, desperate for any sign of their husbands. He had already decided to steam back to New York, continuing on his original course was out of the question.

"Captain?" the _Carpathia_'s master turned as Dean walked in accompanied by a young ship's officer. He shivered heavily but managed to salute.

"I'm Captain Rostron, welcome aboard _Carpathia_," he introduced himself and the officer shook his hand.

"Fourth Officer Joseph Boxhall, RMS _Titanic_," the man replied, "my ship…my ship foundered at 2:20 this morning," his voice was barely above a shocked whisper. Rostron hated to ask the next question.

"How many still aboard, Mr. Boxhall?" the Fourth Officer looked away for a moment. Rostron saw the pain in his eyes.

"Hundreds…maybe a thousand or more…we didn't have enough boats!" Boxhall exclaimed. The young man looked on the edge of having a total breakdown.

"Right then, get below and warm yourself." As Dean led Boxhall off the bridge the _Carpathia_'s commander bowed his head and gave small prayer of thanks for everyone saved and another for the souls of those who died. The trip home was going to a rough one.

He heard a tentative footstep behind him and looked up to find Cottam. He was exhausted but still doing his job, a good boy indeed. "Yes, Cottam?"

"Sir, the _Californian_'s asking if there's anything she can do to help?" the radioman asked. Taking a deep breath to gather himself, Rostron thought for a moment.

"No nothing, we have all survivors aboard," he replied. Cottam nodded and started to walk away but stopped.

"Captain, I…" Cottam began and hesitated.

"Speak up, son."

"I was just…well, trying to figure this all out," he said, "they said 'God himself could not sink that ship.'" Both men looked over the bridge railing at the small band of survivors, 705 out of nearly 2,200…a horrible sight.

After a moment Rostron finally said, "God didn't build the _Titanic_ and he didn't sink her either. The ocean cannot be tamed and all he did here was to remind us of that."

Cottam looked at his captain for a moment then nodded and walked away, leaving Rostron alone at the railing. Turning on his heel, the captain entered his bridge and gave the order to sail for New York.


End file.
